A Last Attempt - Why Must Dreams End With an Exam ?

By S Kunaal Jaiswal

Why are students ending their lives over exams? This is a question and a call for urgent educational reform. 

[This is my original work based on personal thoughts and experiences. I have used ChatGPT to help refine the language, improve clarity, and polish the expression, but all the ideas and emotions expressed are entirely my own.]

I’m an engineering student who once appeared for the JEE exam. I cleared the Mains but couldn’t qualify for the Advanced. I chose engineering because I loved science. It fascinated me—the logic, the concepts, the thoughts that give birth to new theories capable of changing the world. Isn’t that magical?

For example, when we study semiconductors—understanding their properties and versatile nature—we ask questions like: “What makes them behave this way?” or “Can we create something out of this?” These questions led us to inventions like ICs, the VLSI theory, and more, which revolutionized the world! I wanted to pursue engineering to explore these wonders.

But in the process, I encountered some harsh realities—like the pressure of JEE exams and the tragic student suicides linked to them. The huge gap between school education and the JEE syllabus pushes students toward coaching hubs like Kota, where “JEE becomes life.”

Colleges today have been reduced to placement centers. Students no longer learn for joy but study in fear—worried if they’ll land a ₹50 lakh package ten years from now or get Computer Science. These hopes silently drain their youth, and if they fail, government counseling assigns them a branch based on marks, not dreams.

Even if someone considers a private college, the fees are beyond affordability. And if they somehow manage to pay, there’s no guarantee that companies will come to recruit. Government colleges have lower costs, but not all follow the same system. For example, IIITs waive fees based on caste reservation, not financial need.

No one in the college administration or government checks whether someone from a reserved category is genuinely in need. Some can afford the education of five unreserved students yet still get the full benefit of reservation because the Constitution mandates it. Some don’t even care—they take the benefit anyway, denying deserving students who lack resources.

I don’t question the existence of reservation. I understand what Babasaheb Ambedkar envisioned—that it should uplift those left behind. But why didn’t he include a clause to stop reservations for those who have risen and become strong? Why wasn’t there a clause to extend a helping hand to others who now need it?

Reservation, if misused, becomes injustice.

That was the reality for one engineering student. But the situation for medical aspirants is even worse.

I asked a friend, “Why not study at a private medical college?” He replied, “Even if my family works for seven generations, we can’t afford the fees. I’m preparing for NEET—for AIIMS, where the fees are nearly zero. If not this year, then next.”

But the dream that lived inside him for six years ended—when he was found hanging just after NEET results were announced.

That’s when I realized why millions sit for NEET even though the government lacks enough colleges to secure everyone’s future. Today’s government is attentive to every sector—except students, the very future of this nation.

A first-year engineering student once came to me and said, “Bhaiya, I was about to jump off the terrace. I cleared JEE, yet my father is forced to take a loan for my studies. What’s the value of my success in this system?”

I told him he could take a loan based on merit or apply for a scholarship.

His response shocked me:

“Bhaiya, even scholarships go to those whose fees are already waived because they belong to reserved categories.”

I am not saying cancel reservations. They’ve shaped gold out of many. But in the process, we’ve forgotten the coal that could have turned into diamonds, too. The government must look at a student’s ability, curiosity, and will to study—not just their caste or birth. It's time to base support on merit, not just caste.

If a poor child is born into a general category, what is their fault? They don’t get seat reservations, so that's fine. But can’t we at least support them financially so their education doesn’t stop? Should a child who once dreamt of flying jets now be left to fly scarecrows on farms? Affordable education is not a privilege but a right every child should have.

How can anyone stay silent after witnessing so many shattered dreams and lives lost over an exam? Either they’re privileged, or they’re selfish.

I once read: “Where even the sun cannot reach, a poet’s words can.”

That’s why I’ve been compelled to shift toward literature despite my love for science.

I enjoyed science—until I saw how exams made students end their lives. Now it feels like a breakup with science, like a bond with engineering, is breaking. The financial divide in this system is so vast that one failure feels like the end of the world. Private colleges offer no accurate placements, and I feel heartbroken seeing my best friend—who once showed me this path—now lost in insecurity.

I want to write something that compels the corporate world to go beyond IITs and promote open recruitment. Everyone deserves opportunity. College fees should be affordable—or there should be an education loan system or scholarship that removes this burden. The government must feel responsible for providing quality education, security, health, judiciary, and administration to every citizen.

And if someone still chooses a private school or college, it must mean the public system has failed—and that is something worth saving.

This opinion essay draws inspiration from the novel  A Last Attempt – A Journey from No One to Someone, which follows the emotional and educational journey of a student named Rudra. Through fiction, the book explores a powerful philosophy of learning that resonated deeply with me.

By S Kunaal Jaiswal